Boromir's Song
by Rhiannon Merdon
Summary: During the crossing from Middle-Earth to Valinor, Frodo realizes he must make a confession to go pure of heart to the Undying Lands. R&R -even flames


**Disclaimer: They aren't mine. You have all read this sort of thing before; none of the characters are mine, the song isn't mine; only the diction and situations are. RR!**

The last elven ship departed the elf-havens at twilight, sailing white-sailed into the West. A strange array of passengers stood aboard the gleaming planks of the deck below the proud swan figurehead, gazing forward as though to see across hundreds of leagues to the shores of Valinor. Two hobbits stood, casting long shadows in the grey raiment of Lorien. Mithrandir of the Istari behind them, bareheaded, white garments drifting in the breeze as the ship danced over the waters towards its final home. Mithrandir was now entirely separate from the grey, hatted Gandalf of the Shire, and yet in his face there was yet, to an old friend's eye, something remaining of the Grey Pilgrim. The Lord of Rivendell, Elrond Half-elven, there was also, and Celeborn, consort of the Lady of the Wood. The Lady herself stood gazing alone back towards the harbor in Middle-earth and at the three hobbits left behind.

What words of comfort or warning of the future she may have sent them is their own council, and not indeed my story to tell. For the hobbits soon sank from view, swallowed by the dividing swells of the Sea.

The Ship of Eärendil shone brightly overhead by this time, and night had fallen over the Sea. Telperion guided the Moon through its course in the stars, and Bilbo Baggins, leaning half asleep against the bow, saw light reflected from the water some ways off. Sleepily, the ancient hobbit nudged his no-longer-young nephew.

"Look to the southwest ahead, my boy. What is it in the water?"

Frodo stood slowly, shaking pain from his shoulder and arm, wincing as he arose from a daze. Memories of the ghastly Witch-king at Weathertop even now flashed into his vision, and it was a few moments before the nightmares dimmed and reality emerged. Bilbo was looking up at him expectantly.

"Well? What is it?"

"I think perhaps you are a little too ready for another adventure, Uncle. There is nothing but the Moon in the water."

Bilbo scowled slightly, pale wrinkled face twisted as he peered forward around the towering figurehead. Galadriel appeared beside him, resting a slender white hand on the shoulder of each hobbit. She too looked out over the water. Neyna shone on her hand as though a star had consented to rest there in order to be graced by her majesty; the Ring could now be seen by all, as its power waned with the shores of Middle-earth.

Frodo heard her voice in his head as he looked up at her. Her grip firmed reassuringly on his scarred shoulder, and some of the pain receded. _Remember, Frodo, of the Nine Walkers sent from Rivendell to bear you company on the arduous road…all nine will be present this night._

Galadriel watched the hobbit's face as the haunted blue eyes widened in shock. The moonlight's gleam on the waves seemed to be solidifying, approaching them even as their ship neared it. Its true form was now apparent even to Bilbo.

Excitement rang in the aged hobbit's tone. "An elven boat, Frodo! More wanderers on the Sea…"

Mithrandir, standing by the mast, nodded slightly. "Perhaps more than just a boat, old friend."

Celeborn threw a shining rope and caught the elegant high prow of the tiny boat as it passed. Frodo slowly crossed to the side of the ship to peer over the rail. Moonlight fell in almost tangible cascades, seeming to hum as it cast truer light even than the Sun in its shadowlessness. The body of Boromir son of Denethor, the last of the Ruling Stewards, lay still untouched, covered in silver-sheeted water although the boat rested high above the lapping waves.

Frodo turned away.

"What Faramir said of him was true," the hobbit said at length into the silence. The wind had forgotten the sails and the ship sat motionless on the calm seas. "He has the beauty of one who has died well." A tear hung unshed in his eye. Bilbo, glancing over the rail as well, nodded judiciously.

"I, for one, have never before seen a man so proud and fair in death," Bilbo remarked; and his lack of experience in such matters was ignored. "I must know his tale…what a song he should have!"

Galadriel's face was terribly beautiful in its sorrow.

_"Alas, son of Denethor, your fate awaited you at Amon Hen." _None present knew if her deep, prophetic voice rang truer in their minds or ears. _"Yet for your ambition you paid the price as you had been warned…"_

Celeborn made to cast the smaller boat loose, but Frodo cried, "Wait!"

Mithrandir glanced, pleased, at Frodo, whispering to Bilbo, "A good thing he stopped it, my old friend, for I could not. Boromir's peace is not mine to give. Yet I would have regretted it had he not been given his rest."

Bilbo managed in the way of the agéd to look at once clueless and wise as he nodded. "If only Strider were here! What a song we could make…not what he deserves, of course, but just the same…" Humming and nodding to himself, he wandered back to the mast and leaned against it.

All the others stood where they had been, Celeborn poised, rope in hand, to release the boat; Galadriel with her hand on Frodo's shoulder, sorrowful and haunted eyes always on the hobbit; Frodo, indecision writ on his plain face, dark curls tinged silver in a wash across his dark forehead.

"We cannot just let him go to drift forever on the Sea," Frodo protested, voice small as it had been when he volunteered to carry the Ring. Galadriel smiled wanly.

"What would you do for him, Ringbearer? For your friends he died, and bravely. What could you do for him now, if he cannot rest easy?"

Frodo looked up at the three pale figures around him, as beautiful as the Nazgûl wraiths had been terrifying. Somehow these three in their majesty, all waiting for his insignificant voice, frightened him infinitely more than even the chill blade of the Witch-king.

"I never admitted to the whole truth," he said finally, voice clear and strong in the utter silence. "Boromir…I kept some truth back in order to not dishonor him in death, for he died for my friends as the Lady said.

"But now it seems he can only have a seeming of death as I gave him a seeming of truth. Let the full truth release him into death and peace instead of this cruel farce.

"Upon Amon Hen, I walked alone through the forest, to what purpose I remember not. Hearing footsteps behind me, I turned in surprise; for I knew the tread of Boromir – heavier than the strides of Aragorn, lighter and far longer than Gimli, and nowhere as silent as those of Elves or my kin.

"We argued there on Amon Hen…about the Ring.

"I truly believe he wanted it only because of the good he imagined it could do in his suffering land. So passionate was his argument that had the Ring no already begun to work its evil on me, perhaps he would have swayed me.

"Especially now I know how Denethor pressed him to get it, to serve the good of Gondor…

"But perhaps not. I fled from him, frightened by his demeanor; I later fled from his brother under similar circumstance, though with less success. From Amon Hen, I fled invisible under the power of the Ring, to the boats. Here Samwise caught up with me, and we crossed the Anduin for Mordor.

"Had I not fled from him, perhaps his path would have lead him safely home…"

The first tear had long since fallen over the railing to make tiny ripples in the still mirror of water in Boromir's funereal boat, followed by many more as the confession progressed.

Not for the first time, Frodo again wished for the Ring to make himself invisible, hidden from the powerful gazes of these three who watched him. Mithrandir with compassion, Galadriel with pity, Celeborn with an easy, judicial sorrow. Frodo bowed his head, ashamed to look into their eyes, which were so far above his own as to be the blue stars in the very heavens.

"_Well done, Frodo,"_ the Lady's voice intoned slowly, echoing.

And all was darkness.

Telperion shielded his light prematurely, casting darkness. Eärendil plunged into the Sea, followed by a wake of silver star trails as the remaining lights in the sky vanished, plunging into darkness. The light of Boromir's boat flared and faded, leaving blinding afterimages in Frodo's vision. He saw the peacefully arrayed corpse behind his closed eyelids, and allowed himself to weep once again. There was a fearful, waiting darkness; a stifling nothingness enclosed the ship. The sails, if indeed they still existed, were flat; no wind broke the stillness to brush away the dark and dry the tears.

The staff of Mithrandir was extinguished; the garments of Galadriel were darkened; Celeborn in his grey was nearly invisible but for his bright hair. Bilbo alone sat in a circle of light, humming to himself still, oblivious of the silent dark.

"Aha!" The old hobbit exclaimed suddenly. "I got it! Not mine, of course; the wind brought it to me."

In the circle of light, Bilbo peered around. "Nephew! Frodo, come sing this with me. Lovely, sad song – Strider's work of course; mine is never as good."

Frodo moved forward slowly into the light, and moments later two Elves and a Maia heard the second mourning-song of a Man of Gondor, sung by two hobbits as their ship crossed the Abyss between the Seas on the edges of two worlds. Bilbo's voice rose first, cracked and low with emotion and age.

_"Through Rohan over fen and field where the long grass grows_

_The West Wind comes walking, and about the walls it goes._

_What news from the West, O wandering wind, do you bring to me tonight?_

_Have you seen Boromir the Tall by moon or by starlight?_

_'I saw him ride over seven fields, over waters wide and grey;_

_I saw him walk in empty lands until he passed away_

_Into the shadows of the North. I saw him then no more._

_The North Wind may have heard the horn of the son of Denethor.'_

_'O Boromir! From high walls westward I looked afar,_

_But you came not from the empty lands where no Men are.'_

The wind began to rise again, the filling of the sails accompanying Frodo as he began the second verse.

_From the mouths of the Sea the South Wind flies, from the sandhills and the stones;_

_"The wailing of the gulls it bears, and at the gate it moans._

_'What news from the South, O sighing wind, do you bring to me at eve?_

_Where now is Boromir the Fair? He tarries and I grieve.'_

_'Ask not of me where he doth dwell – so many bones there lie_

_On the white shores and the dark shores under the stormy sky;_

_So many have passed down Anduin to find the flowing Sea._

_Ask the North Wind news of them the North Wind sends to me!'_

_'O Boromir! Beyond the gate the seaward road runs south,_

_But you came not with the wailing gulls from the grey sea's mouth._

Bilbo joined in, and the hobbits sang together the last verse.

_From the Gate of Kings the North Wind rides, and past the roaring falls;_

_And clear and cold about the tower its loud horn calls._

_'What news from the North, O mighty wind, do you bring to me today?_

_What news of Boromir the Bold? For he is long away.'_

_'Beneath Amon Hen I heard his cry. There many foes he fought._

_His cloven shield, his broken sword, they to the water brought._

_His head so proud, his face so fair, his limbs they laid to rest;_

_And Rauros, golden Rauros-falls, bore him upon its breast.'_

_'O Boromir! The Tower of Guard shall ever northward gaze_

_To Rauros, golden Rauros-falls, until the end of days.'_

Light bloomed, flooding over the ship as the third verse ended. The smaller elven boat had not survived the crossing, but standing on the fast-approaching shoreline was a Man. His dark hair blew back around his shoulders in the wind that brought the last ship home; his mail shone silver; his garments were unrent and cleansed of blood of orc and man. The shards of a sword he held in one hand; and this he laid at Frodo's feet when the ship docked.

"You gave me forgiveness, little one," he said, kneeling low on the pebbled beach to look solemnly into Frodo's eyes. "When I myself did not know I needed it. You are honoured in my heart above all things." Humbled was the voice of the son of Denethor.

And so it was that all those harmed by the One Ring were brought to the Undying Lands, where pain and death themselves are forever slain.

A/N: Sam and Legolas later join them. The song is from TTT Chapter 1.


End file.
